She and Doral had sat alone one day and Dua had whispered, “Doral, do you know what a Left-Em is?”

And Doral had tittered and compressed herself, as though to avoid being seen, and had said, “It’s an Emotional that acts like a Rational; you know, like a left. Get it! Left-Emotional—Left-Em! Get it!”

Of course Dua “got” the phrase. It was obvious once explained. She would have seen it for herself at once if she had been able to bring herself to imagine such a state of affairs.

Dua said, “How do you know?”

“The older girls told me.” Doral’s substance swirled and Dua found the motion unpleasant. “It’s dirty,” Doral said.

“Why?” asked Dua.

“Because it’s dirty. Emotionals shouldn’t act like Rationals.”

Dua had never thought about the possibility, but now she did. She said, “Why shouldn’t they?”

“Because! You want to know something else that’s dirty?”

Dua couldn’t help being intrigued. “What?”

Doral didn’t say anything, but a portion of herself expanded suddenly and brushed against the unsuspecting Dua before the latter could concavize. Dua didn’t like it. She shrank away and said, “Don’t do that.”

“You know what else is dirty? You can go into a rock.”

“No, you can’t,” said Dua. It had been a silly thing to say for Dua had often moved through the outer surface of the rock and liked it. But now in the context of Doral’s snickering, she felt revolted and denied the whole thing, even to herself.

“Yes, you can. It’s called rock-rubbing. Emotionals can do it easy. Lefts and rights can only do it as babies. When they grow up, they do it with each other.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re making it up.”

“They do, I tell you. Do you know Dimit?”

“No.”

“Sure you do. She’s the girl with the thick corner from Cavern c.”

“Is she the one who flows funny?”

“Yes. On account of the thick corner. That’s the one. She got into a rock all the way once—except for the thick corner. She let her left-brother watch her do it and he told their Parental and what she got for that. She never did it again.”

Dua left then, quite upset. She didn’t talk to Doral again for a long time, and never really grew friendly again, and yet her curiosity had been aroused.

Her curiosity? Why not say her Left-Emmishness?

One day when she was quite sure her Parental wasn’t in the vicinity, she let herself melt into a rock, slowly, just a little. It had been the first time she had tried it since she was quite young, and she didn’t think she had ever dared go so deep. There was a warmness about the sensation, but when she emerged she felt as though everyone could tell, as though the rock had left a stain on her.

She tried it again now and then, more boldly, and let herself enjoy it more. She never sank in really deeply, of course.

Eventually, she was caught by her Parental, who clucked away in displeasure, and she was more careful after that. She was older now and knew for certain fact that despite Doral’s snickering, it wasn’t in the least uncommon. Practically every Emotional did it now and then and some quite openly admitted it.

It happened less frequently as they grew older and Dua didn’t think that any Emotional she knew ever did it after joining a triad and beginning the proper meltings. It wasone of her secrets (she never told anybody) that she had kept it up, and that once or twice she had tried it even after triad-formation. (Those few times she had thought: What if Tritt found out? ... Somehow that seemed to present formidable consequences and rather spoiled the fun.)

Confusedly, she found excuses for this—to herself—in her ordeal with the others. The cry of “Left-Em” began to follow her everywhere in a kind of public humiliation. There was one period in her life when she had been driven into an almost hermit-like isolation to escape. If she had begun with a liking for aloneness, that had confirmed it. And being alone, she found consolation in the rocks. Rock-rubbing, whether it was dirty or not, was a solitary act, and they were forcing her to be solitary.

At least, so she told herself.

She had tried to strike back once. She had cried out, “You’re a bunch of Right-Ems, a bunch of dirty Right-Ems,” at the taunting raids.

They had only laughed and Dua had run away in confusion and frustration. They were. Almost every Emotional, when she was getting on to the age of triad-formation, became interested in babies, fluttering about them in Parental imitation which Dua had found repulsive. She herself had never felt such interest. Babies were only babies; they were for right-brothers to worry about.

The name-calling died as Dua grew older. It helped that she retained a girlishly rarefied structure and could flow with a smoky curl no other could duplicate. And when, increasingly, lefts and rights showed interest in her, the other Emotionals found it difficult to sneer.

And yet—and yet—now that no one ever dared speak disrespectfully to Dua (for it was well known through all the caverns that Odeen was the most prominent Rational of the generation and Dua was his mid-ling), she herself knew that she was a Left-Em past all redemption.

She didn’t think it dirty—not really—but occasionally she caught herself wishing she were a Rational and then she was abashed. She wondered if other Emotionals did— ever—or just once in a while—and if that was why—partly—she didn’t want a baby-Emotional—because she wasn’t a real Emotional herself—and didn’t fill her triad-role properly—

Odeen hadn’t minded her being a Left-Em. He never called her that—but he liked her interest in his life—he liked her questions and he would explain and he liked the way she could understand. He even defended her when Tritt grew jealous—well, not jealous, really—but filled with a feeling that it was all unfit in his stubborn and limited outlook on the world.

Odeen had taken her to the Hard-caverns occasionally, eager to posture before Dua, and openly pleased at the fact that Dua was impressed. And she was impressed, not so much with the clear fact of his knowledge and intelligence, but with the fact that he did not resent sharing it. (She remembered her left-father’s harsh response that one time she had questioned him.) She never loved Odeen so much as when he let her share his life—and yet even that was part of her Left-Emmishness.

Perhaps (this had occurred to her over and over), by being Left-Emmish, she moved closer to Odeen and farther from Tritt, and this was another reason Tritt’s importunities repelled her. Odeen had never hinted at anything like that, but perhaps Tritt felt it vaguely and was unable to grasp it completely but did so well enough to be unhappy over it without being able to explain why.

The first time she was in a Hard-cavern she had heard two Hard Ones talking together. She didn’t know they were talking of course. There was air vibration, very rapid, very changing, that made an unpleasant buzz deep inside her. She had to rarefy and let it through.

Odeen had said, “They’re talking.” Then, hastily, anticipating the objection. “Their kind of talk. They understand each other.”

Dua had managed to grasp the concept. It was all the more delightful to understand quickly because that pleased Odeen so. (He once said, “None of the other Rationals I’ve ever met have anything but an empty-head for an Emotional. I’m lucky.” She had said, “But the other Rationals seem to like empty-heads. Why are you different from them, Odeen?” Odeen did not deny that the other Rationals liked empty-heads. He just said, “I’ve never figured it out and I don’t think it’s important that I do. I’m pleased with you and I’m pleased that I’m pleased.”)

She said, “Can you understand Hard-One talk?”

“Not really,” said Odeen. “I can’t sense the changes fast enough. Sometimes I can get a feel for what they’re saying, even without understanding, especially after we’ve melted. Just sometimes, though. Getting feels like that is really an Emotional trick, except even if an Emotional does it, she can never make real sense out of what she’s feeling. You might, though.”